Flemeth's Treachery
by Balthbunansa
Summary: Many know of Flemeth's ritual, but is it possible that it was completed? *SPOILERS*


**Disclaimer: I do not own or claim to own any characters involved.**

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Flemeth paced in her hut knowing it would soon be time for the next ritual to take place. She touched her face, noting the wrinkles. Sighing, she knew she had grown old once more, and soon her powers would dwindle. While not nearing death as she had in past forms, the witch knew she must complete the ritual before the blight overtakes her wilds. Staring into the mirror, the witch of the wilds imagined the lovely Morrigan's face as her own. These thoughts eased her suffering momentarily.

Walking out to the pot, outside her decrepit hut, the shape shifter began to concoct the possession potion that had allowed her to survive for so many years. Hearing approaching footsteps, the woman stepped away gazing in the direction of the group of men headed by her daughter.

"Greetings Mother.." Morrigan began before standing next to her mother. "I bring before you four Grey Wardens."

"I see them girl" The witch of the wilds commented. "It is as I expected."

"And we're supposed to believe you expected us?" Alistair commented sarcastically.

Before Flemeth was able to answer, two recruits began to argue amongst themselves of whether the woman in front of them was indeed a witch. Meanwhile, the elven recruit watched her carefully for a moment before gazing from his peripherals at the bickering pair.

"If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?!?" One finally snapped.

The elder woman laughed before turning on a tangent, speaking mindlessly about her exploits before the younger witch spoke up about their purpose and desire for the treaties. Flemeth agreed, handing the treaties to the elven recruit before sending them on their way.

"Tell your Grey Warden's this blight's threat is greater than they realize." She warned before turning her attention back to the potion she had begun.

After the recruits had left, the shape shifter turned to her kin. Morrigan knew this meant to leave her be and prepare for whatever her mother had prepared. Walking into the home the witch did as she normally did. She began by tidying up any misplaced blankets and washing dirty dishes. After finishing this, she went to her cramped room and began to study some of the magic Flemeth had asked her to review.

Hours passed as shape shifter added every necessary ingredient to the pot. Many were herbs, ranging from the common elfroot, to deep roots. Pausing for a moment, Flemeth thought of the last ingredient. Taking a pouch from her pocket she opened it. Tossing the lifestone into the pot, the bubbling liquid's colour changed from a eerie black colour, to a cheesy one in moments. Grasping a ladle, the witch poured some into the bowl. Her potion was complete, she now had to convince her child to eat it and put on the robes her many other children had worn in their last moments.

Carefully, she carried the bowl into the home before setting it onto a shabby wooden table. The hut was small, making it much simpler to find what she desired. Giving a solid rap on Morrigans door, Flemeth handed her the robes of possession. Accepting the gift with a smile, the younger witch closed the door to put on the new robes given that hers had grown tatty since the last pair her mother had bought.

The shape shifter cackled to herself as she collected her prized Grimoire. Quietly she began to utter the possession spell she'd finished. The raven-haired Morrigan walked out beaming in her new robes, only to walk to the bowl of potion concocted by her mother. Only a spoonful was needed. The moment the daughter of Flemeth put the spoon into her mouth and swallowed. The ritual was complete.

Pale amber orbs opened, as Flemeth awoke in Morrigan's younger frame. Looking on her former fragile form, the witch cackled slightly. It had worked once more.. She had survived death once again.

While Morrigan was still alive, there was no way the body that held her soul would do her bidding.. This was exactly as the witch of the wilds desired. Quickly the witch uttered another spell, one that would allow her frail form to continue living, but under the shape shifter's control. All that remained embedded in the mind of the old woman was a spell for dragon shape shifting. This is how it had always been; she just needed a pawn to do her as she wished now.

A reinvigorated Flemeth began to scheme. The Grey Warden recruits that had been lead to her by Morrigan would be the perfect pawns. She would need at least two wardens since she could not risk one of them dying and being left with no Grey Warden alive. While she did not trust elves, especially the dalish, she could only hope that her new frame would persuade the elven warden to comply to her every wish. Beginning with lovely clothing, and hopefully ending how she hoped.

Tossing aside the robes of possession, as they were no longer needed, the witch of the wilds donned the rags her daughter had hastily tossed aside. She could not wear the possession robes on the off chance that her spell would break freeing Morrigan. While a minimal chance, Flemeth could not allow anything to take her from her main objective.

The battle at Ostagar would begin soon, and Flemeth knew she would have to save her pawns. Shape shifting into her raven form, a focused witch of the wilds took to the skies. Flying over the gorge separating, the advancing darkspawn and the humans amber orbs gazed for where the warden would be.

Finally her optics saw her prize enter the tower. Taking a rest in a tree, the giant bird watched the ongoing battle before eventually turning her attention back towards the tower. Animal orbs note that the beacon has been lit and her prize has been wounded. Swooping to the top of the tower, Morrigan grabbed the elven warden and Alistair in separate talons before flying back to the korcari wilds.


End file.
